runtowardsomething | (no subject)

(no subject)

It isn't a birthday party.

Beverly has been adamant about that. She's never actually had one before, more inclined to let the occasion pass as little fanfare as possible, and she doesn't intend to change that now. Still, she can't turn eighteen and not do something. It's a big milestone. A huge one, really, and fucking terrifying at that. There's so much she's still clueless about, so much it feels like she's running out of time to make up her mind about.

Tonight, though, she doesn't want to think about that. She just wants to enjoy not being a kid — a little girl — anymore.

Having settled on a good destination for the night — a bar near her house, the sort of relaxed place that lets anyone in and only requires ID from anyone ordering drinks, so those under eighteen can still freely get in and those of age, herself now included, can reap the benefits that come with that — she texts some friends, inviting them to come meet her if they want. For her part, she finds a reasonably sized table to claim, then heads over to the bar. There's something painfully refreshing about not having to aim for a bartender who looks like he won't bother to card her if she looks at him just right. It's even better when she presents her ID as asked, and the bartender, seeing that it's her eighteenth birthday, tells her the drink is on the house.

It's not much of a sign, exactly, and wouldn't be even if she were to believe in such things, ultimately pretty meaningless. Still, there's a tiny little sprout of something that might be optimism inside her. Maybe, just maybe, it will be an okay year.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I knew Beverly wasn't calling it a birthday party, but it was all the same, and that was why I had a small giftbox in the pocket of my coat. There was a keychain inside, which I knew could be a terrible gift, but I'd put a lot of thought into this one, wanting to share something with Beverly that was special to us.

The keychain was silver, delicately crafted, with a small mermaid on the end. A reminder of the good things we had been able to see on Peter's Island.

For now, though, I just wanted to celebrate and I came up to Beverly's side and threw my left arm around her shoulders. "Happy birthday!" I said excitedly.

He's been sober for over a year now, which is why Hopper figures he can be in the bar without it being too much trouble. It's Beverly's birthday and while he supposes he technically doesn't need to be here, he's still her dad, even if she is eighteen and even if it's not by blood.

So he's here, he's nursing a club soda and cranberry, watching a bunch of teenagers -- they're not adults, no matter what they think -- running around and having a good time.

He's trying not to look like an overprotective father, but he's not sure how well he's succeeding.

"Hi," Eddie said, bustling into the bar and dumping his backpack in an empty chair. He was harried and a little breathless, but for no other reason than that he was himself.

"This place is disgusting," he said cheerfully, dropping her small, carefully wrapped present onto the table in front of her and bending to throw his arms around her neck. "Happy Birthday."

As soon as she sees Jamie, Beverly breaks into a grin. There are times it still catches her by surprise that she actually has friends here, that she's liked, and that seems especially so at a time like this. With Jamie, though, it just makes sense. It always has, practically since they first met, years ago now. Celebrating her birthday without him would simply have felt wrong.

"Thanks," she says, leaning into him, wrapping an arm around him in turn. "I'm glad you made it." All of this was pretty spontaneous, she knows, the better to keep it low key. Still, that could easily have backfired, and she's more than a little relieved that it didn't.

Maybe it should be a little strange, having someone who is, for all intents and purposes, her parent at her eighteenth birthday not-party. Beverly really doesn't care. As far as she's concerned, it's nice that he wants to be involved, especially now that she's technically a legal adult, especially since it means spending the afternoon around people drinking. She feels a little bad about that part, but she has no intention of getting wasted or anything, and she thinks it's a safe bet that the same will be true for her friends.

"Bored of hanging out with a bunch of teenagers yet?" she asks, smiling as she comes over to him. "Not even terribly behaved ones to make it more interesting, either."

"That's why I picked it," Beverly replies, teasingly cheerful, though the brightness in her expression at the sight of Eddie is wholly genuine. She wouldn't have thought for a second that he wouldn't be here, but she's thrilled even so that he is. The two of them have been through hell together. There's no way she would want to celebrate her birthday, especially a significant one, without him.

Reaching up, she gives him a quick hug in turn. "Thanks for coming."

El's never been in a place like this. It's a little smelly, and feels small, but it also feels... good. That's probably a weird way to think about a place. But it doesn't feel cold or scary, or bad. It feels... good.

She finds her way to the table that Beverly has seemed to take over, and she sets down a handmade birthday card. It's stiff with layers of paint and paper glued into place, the sort of bright, clashing colors El has come to really like.

Maybe it's childish. Maybe she'll hate it, or throw it away after a few days. But El made it herself, and she signed it from her and the cat. On the outside it says Beverly's name. On the inside, I'm glad you're my sister.

She hopes Beverly doesn't think it's stupid.

I made a face at Beverly and said, "Of course."

She had been my very first friend in Darrow. Maybe not my first friend ever, not after Sal and Charlie, but it still felt like it sometimes. Sal was gone, buried on the Island, and Charlie... well, Charlie was a pirate, I knew, alongside some other version of myself. But Beverly and I were here and she was the friend I was experiencing all this life with now.

"You can't think for a second I'd miss it," I said, then grinned. "Or that Eddie would let me if I tried, which I wouldn't."

"Yeah, c'mon. Someone better do something I can arrest them for before long," Hopper answers in a dry voice, though he smiles a little when he says it, flicking his gaze toward Beverly in amusement.

He's already said it, already given her a gift -- some cash, which he thinks might be a cop out, but also a bracelet he'd found, one she can put charms on if she wants -- but he still sweeps her up into a hug again. Hopper isn't always physically affectionate, but Beverly's been his kid for years now, as much his as Sara ever was, and he lifts her off her feet.

"Happy birthday, kid," he says in a gruff voice.

Among the people that Beverly knew she could count on to be here tonight, Hopper and El would have been at the top of the list. They're family, after all — but they're family she chose, not family she was born into, and for her, that's a big fucking deal. It's the same, really, with the rest of the Losers. They found each other and they picked each other. With her and El, it's a little different, the two of them being brought together by having found and chosen the same person, but it's a bond that means a lot to her all the same.

So does the card, when she reads it, the bright colors something of a giveaway before she even sees the name inside. It makes her smile a little; it makes something in her chest pull tight, too. Somewhere in the back of her head, there's still always that fear of being unwanted, a failure, worthless, like she was with her first family. This feels infinitely better.

Making her way over to El, Beverly wraps her arms around her in a quick, affectionate hug. "I'm glad you're my sister, too."

"Good point," Beverly says with a laugh. She wouldn't have questioned that either of them would be here, really, unless they had some previous plans. So close to Valentine's Day, she wouldn't have been able to blame them if they did. Her being so grateful that people have shown up has far less to do with them, though, and more to do with the part of her that's still always a little astonished that people care that much about her.

"I didn't want to do something big," she adds, an explanation of sorts. "Just to be around friends."

Before she met Hopper, Beverly didn't really have any idea of what a good parent is supposed to be like. She'd certainly never experienced it firsthand, and she never really saw it, either. Most of the parents in Derry, even the better ones, seemed pretty checked out at best. She knew only what she saw in movies and on TV, and that seemed more like a fairytale than anything else, something that could only exist in fiction.

Now she has it herself, and maybe that's why she doesn't feel stifled having Hopper here for this. Even if he is an adult, and a cop at that, it feels good to have someone care about her like that. Her nose wrinkles a little as he lifts her off the ground, but it's mostly so she won't do something stupid like get all emotional in front of people.

"Thanks," she says, her own voice soft. "And, hey, if it doesn't get more exciting soon, I can always, I don't know, get Richie to piss someone off and start a fight or something."

The hug is quick and warm, and Eleven smiles. She's never had a sister before, and sometimes she worries she's not very good at it, but moments like this, she thinks she does okay. Maybe it's because she has so many friends, so many people to guide her and answer her questions. Maybe it's because of Hopper, helping her see that she has more love in her heart than she's never known what to do with.

Or maybe it's just so easy to care about Beverly.

"Happy birthday," she says, hand still on Beverly's arm. "You're happy?"

"I think that's the best kind of birthday," I answered. My first party had been a rather big affair, at least in part because Magnus had made it seem as if I ought to go all out when having my very first party, and I had loved it. Every second had seemed impossibly perfect and I had spent the entire day truly feeling how lucky I was.

But I didn't think I would ever have such a big event again. Not for a birthday.

"Have any grown ups asked you what it feels like to be eighteen now?" I asked, grinning as if I were sharing a secret. "Even though it feels mostly like the day before, when you were still seventeen?"

"Nah, maybe just focus on having a good birthday," he says as he sets her back down, then grins, feeling a little self-conscious maybe. They're both new to this in a lot of ways, new to being a proper family, and he thinks they both -- and Eleven, too -- just kind of fumble their way along.

But it works. It really works.

"So can I buy you your first legal drink?" he asks, his grin growing. He's not a complete idiot, he's well aware this likely isn't Beverly's first taste of alcohol, but he'd still like to be the one to do this part.

It's not a birthday party, all right, fine: Eponine can understand not wanting to make much of one's birth. But she can't let the girl she'd come to think of as a little sister -- and been close with since a good few years before she was legal to drink here herself -- become a real adult without some sort of gift, and without fretting about it a bit too. In her jacket pocket, then, she's got a little box stowed away, a small piece of paper folded neatly just inside the lid.

But it's hidden on the inside pocket, so that if Beverly does just want to drink and spend time without making a fuss she can recover it when necessary. Likewise, she's dressed up just a bit, but not as though it's a formal affair: rebraided her hair and loosened the plait fashionably, and put on lipstick so the oversized buttondown and faux-leather leggings she's wearing with boots looks like it was intended for going out.

She tries not to think about Azelma on the way over: about if her real little sister even made it to eighteen, and if she did what became of her. She'll never know that, not even if she's returned to Paris, but she has a family she's forged here and she loves them in a way she's not sure she could have imagined loving anyone, back then.

By the time she's stepping into the bar, looking around for her friends, she's smiling again.

Edited 2022-04-05 03:33 (UTC)

"Like I wouldn't," he said, giving her a skeptical look as he dropped into the empty chair at her side.

He gestured to her present, which was a set of two thin gold chain you could wear as a set. The longest one was a tiny, teardrop aquamarine stone, while the shorter of the two had a flat, gold pendant stamped with a delicate B. He said, "Open it now, so I don't have to keep worrying if you'll hate it."

Her smile mirroring Eleven's, Beverly nods. Really, that's an accomplishment in itself, as significant as legally being an adult now. There was a time she was sure she could never be happy, even her brightest moments overshadowed by horrible things — sharing a smile with Bill while cleaning up her blood-drenched bathroom, getting an anonymous postcard that she knew she would have to guard with her life, finding her best friends while living out a nightmare. Here, it's different. It's not perfect, there's plenty that weighs her down and plenty she isn't sure about, but she has friends she loves and a family she chose, and the security that comes with it.

"I am, yeah," she says. "I'm really happy."

"Pretty much all of them," Beverly confirms, letting out a laugh as she nods. "Even though, yeah, it's not all that different from yesterday." Any differences she does feel are, she's pretty sure, just because she knows she should, not a product of turning eighteen but of her own awareness of the date's significance. Exciting as it is, it's not the same as it would have been back home, where becoming an adult would have meant finally being able to get out on her own, not living under anyone else's control anymore. Here, she has stability, she's actually fucking happy. She's just not considered a kid anymore.

"I mean, it's a big birthday. But it's not like I woke up today just going, Ooh, wow, I'm an adult now."

Beverly beams, not hesitating to nod in response. It's a good question — not requiring her to lie and pretend she's never had a drink before, which she really wouldn't want to have to do, but still letting there be some ceremony to it. She doesn't know if Hopper knows she's drank, but the way she sees it, it's better to let it go unspoken, something that they can both be aware of without needing to acknowledge it.

She likes to think she's been pretty responsible about it, anyway. She hasn't gone out getting plastered in public, she hasn't gotten arrested or been hospitalized or hurt anyone, she hasn't wound up unbearably sick the morning after. She just sometimes enjoys getting a little tipsy while out with her friends. And, okay, there was that one time she drove sort of drunk, but considering it was New Year's and the city was under attack at the time and she was only trying to get her friends to safety, she's pretty sure she should get a pass for that. There were bigger concerns then.

"I would love that," she says, pausing just a moment later. "As long as it wouldn't, like, make you uncomfortable or anything." As much as she likes the offer, she doesn't want to make it too weird, having him buy her a drink when he doesn't drink anymore.

"I figured you would, but I'm still glad you did," Beverly says, shooting him a teasing grin. Despite how long they've known each other and Eddie being like family, despite the fact that she doesn't think there's anyone here she's closer to, she doesn't think it's something she could ever take for granted — having friends, being loved. A nice handful of people are here today just to help her celebrate, and it's amazing and a little surreal.

Reaching for the little box with both hands, she draws it over to herself, glancing over at Eddie again for a moment. "I'm sure I won't hate it," she tells him, but sets about opening it anyway. The wrapping paper set aside, she takes the lid off the box, then draws in a breath, delicately lifting the two necklaces to get a better look at them. "Oh, they're so pretty," she says. "No, I love them, really. Thank you."

Strange as part of her still finds it for anyone to be here at all, there are a few people whose presence Beverly felt pretty sure she could count on. Eponine is one of them. Even so, glancing over toward the door when she hears it open, she grins at the sight of her friend, getting to her feet and making her way over. Everything is nice and relaxed — or it seems so to her, and she hopes it is for everyone else — with people casually milling about, various conversations taking place. She doesn't want or need to be the center of attention. That's the whole point of it not being a party, really. She just wants to spend her birthday around the people she loves.

Back home, after all, she never had that. Not until that last summer, anyway, and even that wasn't likely to be the sort of thing that would have extended to this sort of thing. Granted, her memories of it are fuzzy at best, but they definitely spent more time trying to figure out how to stop a killer clown than they did just hanging out, doing normal kid things.

"Hey, you made it!" she says brightly, leaning in for a quick hug when she's made it over to Eponine. "I sort of stole us a couple tables over there, but everyone's just kind of wandering around."

"Good," she says, her smile tipping more into shyness than before. "Happy birthday," she adds. She knows she's supposed to say that, even though she thinks it already is a happy birthday for Beverly. She's never been to a bar like this, before, and she's not sure what to do; she doesn't want to just follow Beverly or Hopper around like she's lost, but she sort of feels lost.

"You like it here?" she asks, a bit hesitantly.

"I miss slip and fall face down in a bottle of whiskey," he answers, as if he's considering this, then he breaks into a grin and shakes his head. "It's been over a year. Almost a year and a half. I know people fuck up again even after years of sobriety, but I think I'll be okay tonight."

Maybe a year ago, he couldn't have been here. It had still been really goddamn difficult for him at that point, and even just the thought of going into a bar made him break out in a cold sweat. But it's gotten better with each passing month and now he feels pretty settled.

For now.

"C'mon, what're you having?" he asks, nodding toward the bar.

"You can drink alcohol now, which you've never done before, of course," I said, my eyes comically wide before I broke into a grin. It was funny, the way grownups seemed to think turning eighteen suddenly made everything different. I was glad Beverly seemed to agree.

"Do you want to open your present?" I asked. "I know you said it wasn't really a party, but I still wanted to get something for you."

I knew Eddie had done the same thing, too. We weren't going to let this go by without celebrating it properly.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4